"I walked down to a river and sat in reflection of what had to be done, An offering of crimson flowed into the water below, A wound of spirit from which it floated and faded away. . .like every hope I've ever had. . .like every dream I've ever known. . .It washed away in a tide of longing, a longing for a better world, From my will, my throat, to the river, and into the sea. . . wash away. . .fade away. . ."